She whistled a bit and lay there looking up at the sky. ‘I bet you had cracking sex.’

I laughed. ‘We did.’ We really did. I watched Ness stretch herself out, her arms over her head. She had rolled up the sleeves of her T-shirt and I was momentarily distracted by the curve of her breast against the side of her body.

‘Wouldn’t it be great if we were allowed just one day of pure passion, to shag our brains out, with no repercussions or consequences?’ she said with a sigh. For a moment I thought she was talking about us, her and me, and my heart surprised me when it did a little cha-cha-cha.

‘Who would you do it with?’ I asked. (Yes, in my book, that is flirting. What do you think?)

‘I don’t know. Whoever floated my boat.’

The sky seemed to prickle with stars despite the daylight.

‘Would you call yourself bisexual?’ I asked her.

‘I don’t like all these labels.’

‘Don’t you miss sex with men?’

She looked at me and shrugged. ‘No.’

‘You and Leah have a good sex life though, don’t you?’ I asked. Seeing as she’d opened the portal to this conversation, I stepped right in. I’d always assumed that they had, but now I thought about it, I hadn’t seen much affection between them recently.

‘Yeah,’ she said loyally, but I heard the doubt in her voice. Well, you can’t say no, can you, Dr. R? ‘You and Karl?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ I said, because I was a liar too. ‘But let’s just say I might have to brush a few cobwebs off the old French maid outfit at the back of the cupboard.’

She sat up on an elbow and stared at me. ‘Do you dress up?’ She looked really flabbergasted. I told you, there was a touch of Edwina about her. But I also liked this about her, that she thought dressing up ridiculous. It suddenly felt very feminist and empowering not to appeal to men’s fantasies. And yet, on the other hand, it seemed to me that there was an element of imagination missing from her make-up. (What about you? Do you carry on playing doctors and nurses when you get home? Does Si Hubby like a bit of sexy Santa?)

Ness was staring at me, waiting for an answer. ‘No! I’m serious! Do you?’ she repeated.

‘I used to,’ I said. Karl was into all that dressing up when we started. ‘He has particular tastes. For example, he likes white underwear. It has to be white.’ I kid you not, Dr. R – he gives me some every birthday. To be honest, I don’t really consider that a proper present, do you? He might as well give me a QPR season ticket.